What makes funks challenging is that it feels like everything is wrong and broken and will stay that way forever. It’s pretty unlikely that that’s true, of course. The challenge (as in many instances, such as here, here, here and here) is to live (be, perform) in a way that’s other than how you feel.
As I’ve said many times, feelings are highly unreliable; when you base what you do on how you feel you’re likely heading for disaster. The problem with the funks, though, is that what makes them so powerful is that they can make you forget.
Your life, for one. What you’ve built. Who you are. Where you’re headed. Who’s going there with you. Most importantly, they make you forget that you are the creator of your life. And when you forget that, you’re in trouble! Because the very funk you’re in necessitates some heavy duty life-creating on your part. In fact, when we pick through the aftermath of a funk, what often proves to be much more damaging than the funk itself was our response to the funk. Whether we hid out or we freaked out, that’s where the damage is most commonly done.
When I’m in this spot, I say something like this to myself, over and over again, as many times as it takes: “Self, it feels an awful lot like this thing, this funk, is never going to end and that there’s not much to do about it. That’s hogwash. Feelings lie. Even though it doesn’t feel like it, your life is bigger than this funk. So get to work.”